Sunday, February 15, 2009

Cleanliness Is Next To?

This story was submitted by Dan:

Not long after I separated from my wife, a very good friend thought it was time for me to meet "the girl next door"—his neighbor from childhood. She had been single for about a year and was ready to meet a new Mr. Right.. She lived a couple of hours away and came into town for a weekend double date with my friend, his wife, and myself. Jen was cute, funny, and sexy in that well, “girl next door” kind of way. I always liked that subtle, playful type of sexiness. We hit it off and hung out all weekend. After talking for a couple of weeks, we decided that I would visit her at her place. She had a 2 bedroom apartment and plenty of room so she said that if I was comfortable with it she was happy to have me crash at her apartment. We would hang out, have a couple of nice dinners, play a little tennis and see what happened. Sounded great on paper (so many things sound great on paper).

I left after work on a Friday and ended up pulling into her complex right about the same time she was getting home from work. I had a little coffee on the way and by the time I arrived, I had to take a leak so bad I felt I was about to pop. I could barely give her a hug and a quick kiss before I told her I had to get to the bathroom. She opened the door, led me inside and pointed the way. As I was making my way through her apartment I noticed a very stale smell and LOTS of crap piled all over the place. Clothes in the living room, dishes piled on the counter, papers and folders literally stacked everywhere randomly. She was apparently one of those folks who walked out the door looking cute but left behind a cataclysmic mess. I didn't really have time to think about it because if I didn't get to the toilet the next moment I would have left behind my own cataclysmic mess.

I shut the door, flipped on the light, yanked up the toilet seat and "HOLY SHIT" (no puns). Cute little Jen had left a whopper just sitting there all day just for me. Even Mr. Happy had a momentary lapse of consciousness as I was so stunned my bladder held back. Well, needless to say I've emptied my bladder in worse conditions so we made out alright, but as I emptied my bladder I took a closer look around and it truly looked not just messy but pathologically messy.

Mind you, I lived in a frat house for three years and I have two daughters who really hate cleaning up. There have been many times when I have followed behind them to help clean themselves up or flush a toilet or two. As a physician, I have seen things come out of people’s bodies that just shouldn't be seen. But, I tell you this was just unbelievable. The first thing I did was flush and then I washed my hands, really washed my hands. I went back out and I was hoping that perhaps she would be a little contrite about the mess or perhaps embarrassed that maybe she left the bathroom in a little disarray since she was in a rush this morning. But, no. "Thirsty, want a snack"? I couldn't help but look around and say "looks like a tornado hit this place". She barely seemed to recognize that she was living in a hovel. It was a complete turn off. We hung out for the weekend, did some fun stuff, but whenever we were back in her apartment the mood left me. I did spend the two nights (her guest room was actually not dirty, just messy). We played around a bit but nothing too serious and I am sure that she was initially a little taken aback when I got back home and called her a day or two late to thank her for a nice time but didn't make any other plans to see or talk. What else could I say to her? "Learn to flush and get a maid".

I never did tell my buddy about the cute girl next door that he probably lusted for during his teenage years. Let him keep those precious lustful fantasies intact.

Monday, February 2, 2009

Oh, Baby

This story was submitted by Pete:

One of the biggest blunders which I seem to repeat fairly often is the one of dating someone too soon after they have become separated. This is a common theme for me. One explanation is the fact that I live in a smaller city than say Boston, NYC or even Atlanta. I moved here freshly married and ready to start a medical practice. Divorce 12 years later never crossed either of our minds and if it had we probably would have chosen a different city in the first place. The other limiting factor is the fact that I am Jewish. Now, I married a woman who wasn't born Jewish and converted and certainly would not hesitate to marry someone non-Jewish again. But, why not try to find someone with some cultural similarities for change. Maybe our parents have some wisdom after all. So, this makes the dating pool look more pond like. The other possible explanation, is that up until recently I have not been interested in or capable of establishing a meaningful relationship and perhaps this has been a way to avid it. Who knows??

After I separated and began the divorce process I began to attend Hot Yoga classes near the house. I found it a wonderful way to energize, exercise and and stretch in ways that I never imagined I would ever be able to stretch. More importantly, I soon discovered that there simply was no place on earth that had more half naked, sweaty, barefoot and health conscious woman per square foot in the universe than this little sweat box. I made a point of going 3 times a week. Not only could I touch my toes for the first time in years but my head was relaxed, I slept like a baby and did I mention the sweaty bodies? One night after class I ended up talking to a woman who had become familiar from class as she attended the same exact nights. Turned out she had three kids, recently separated and this was her sole "do something for me " activity. I suggested that perhaps she should add another component and that after class next week we get a glass of wine together. They has showers in the studio so it would be easy. She was excited, as was I, having never actually asked anyone out from a yoga class. And, by the way I suck at yoga, really suck. So here was this really pretty woman still interested in a drink despite seeing me stretch and sweat like the middle age, not very limber man that I truly was. That probably should have been my first clue.

The following week we went out and had a nice time. She ended up coming over to the house after and we engaged in a short couch session. Heavy petting, litttle of this, little of that but clothes on the entire time. All good. I learned she was separated about 4 months, had three kids. Either I failed to ask their ages or she didn't tell me. I can't remember but I still did not know how old they were except I had the impression they were in grade school . She was 39 and a retired news caster from Oregon. Her ex was a banker but that is as much as we got into.
We did the same basic gig for another 2 weeks and it became apparent that we were clicking on a couple of different levels.

One little thing kept on happening that bothered me. She would get texts and/or phone calls frequently while we were out. At first I figured it was the sitter and at one point I asked her how old her sitter was. "Well, my sitter is my ex" . I then figure that this was their current situation--he would watch the kids while she did her thing at yoga. Why not, she had them all day, etc. Seemed fair. There seemed to be more to this but rather than talk more about it we ended up in bed and the topic didn't come up again for a week.

I called to ask her out on a proper date--dinner and movies-no yoga. At this point I was getting sore and had pulled a variety of things so as to not look like a complete idiot out there on the mat anyway. i could use a break. She hemmed and hawed about child care and then I realized that this was more of an issue than I thought. I have two kids but have worked out a pretty fair arrangement with my ex--doesn't always work that way for other couples. She finally agreed to make arrangements but she would come over my house. Another fair request, happens a lot, better this way than meeting kids, sitters, whatever until things move farther along. I totally got it plus that way at the end of the night there was a better shot at ending up romping around here.

Went thru the usual pre-game routine. Shower, shave, clean up, wine and cheese at the ready, good music. The doorbell rings and lo and behold there she is holding a bottle of wine and something that I could have sworn was a baby in a baby seat. Holy shit!! I was about to go out with a complete MILF and her 6 month old. So, the story I finally learn after about a month of dating is that she has 3 children the youngest is 6 months old and her ex still lives at the house. He is suffering form some type of neuromuscular disorder that is progressive so is out of work also. Essentially, she is caring for him as well. This evening since the plan was to be out later she decided it would be best to take the baby rather than leave him with all three children. Anyway, "baby's are portable, she'll sleep right thru the movie". It was a lot to digest naturally. We changed plans, ordered in, drank the wine, and ended up not letting small things get in the way of an enjoyable evening.

It was also the last time we dated. I see her every once in awhile in target. Very cordial, kids are all in school now and she works full time. Never did ask about her ex. Funny thing is that if we had met at this point things could have been different but that was the first of many "too sooners "that I've had a relationship with.

Friday, January 30, 2009

So Close and Yet So Far

This story was submitted by Penelope:

After a long dry period, I met a really interesting guy. He was smart and mature and nothing like the men I'd been dating, who to me seemed inconsistent and whiny. This guy was sure of himself--he was tall and broad-shouldered, full of good stories and easy with a laugh. I met him in a bar one sultry September night. It turns out he was friends with some of my friends, but he'd spent the previous few years studying and working in London, and so we'd never met.

I was instantly smitten. Good conversationalist? Check. Handsome? Oh yes, check. Good job and a future plan? Yes, that too. He'd even had a long-term relationship with a woman of whom he spoke fondly (but not wistfully), which led me to think he had a pretty high EQ.

We made a point of seeing each other on the next several weekends. He didn't ask me out on a date, but that seemed normal. We'd go out with our groups of friends but made sure to coordinate ending up in the same place. Once together, we'd seize a table away from our larger groups and talk and talk and talk--laughing and drinking and having a great time. The sexual tension grew each time we met, and the attraction was clearly mutual. I spent several of those fall weeks enjoying the high that accompanies that sense of possibility you feel when you think a new relationship is developing. Everything was electric.

One night, after several hours of enjoying each other's company, we decided it was too loud to talk in the bar, and that we should go to my apartment. We walked there, holding hands and crunching fallen leaves. It felt like a storybook first date.Once inside, he kissed me. We kissed for a good long time, and I was really enjoying it--he was in no rush, which I really appreciated. What a nice change to meet someone who would take it slow.

We chatted and giggled and flirted and kissed some more. Taking his time, he moved his hand under my shirt, which gave me shivers. This lasted for a while, and then he moved to my legs. I was delighted--here was someone who would touch me in more than two places! Funnily, though, he became unusually focused on my left knee; stroking it up and down, over and over. After some time, he moved his hand an inch or two up my thigh, almost meeting the hem of my short skirt, but still below it. The stroking became even more intense, and for a while I thought he would gradually move his hand upward, underneath my skirt. That didn't happen. While this leg rub was nice, I found it confusing, since he wasn't following the normal course these interactions usually take. And in truth, as the minutes passed, I was beginning to cool off and get sleepy. I wasn't going to sleep with him on the first opportunity anyway, so I began to think I might start to wrap things up. But strangely, he was stroking the inside of my mid-thigh with vigor. I was beginning to think of some way to nicely redirect him, when he whispered in my ear, "Are you close?" Close to what, I wondered? He knew he was rubbing my mid-thigh, didn't he? "Er...what?" I stammered. Then, he said, uncomfortably "Are you going to have an orgasm soon?". Oh, reader, I couldn't help it--i laughed at him, right then and there! Not a huge laugh, more like a startled chuckle. He really did think he was doing all the right things to bring me to orgasm--either that, or he had a very strange mental map of the female body. I did manage to say something that conveyed that no, I wasn't "close". As you might imagine, things got awkward very quickly. He stopped rubbing my leg, and a few minutes later, he mentioned that he had better head home anyway, because he didn't have his contact lens case with him. He kissed me politely, ever the gentleman, and said goodbye.

I didn't see him again for a couple of months. When I did, we chatted for a couple of awkward minutes: how've you been, very busy with work, ha ha, amazing how busy you can get in this city. It's been years since I've seen him, now, though I wonder about him often. Did anyone ever teach him how to push a girl's buttons--or where the buttons are located? I'd love to know.